Thursday, August 13, 2015

Every teacher knows the high-achieving students in his or her classroom. These are the trusted “high verbal” pupils who raise their hands, who answer each question, who quote the night’s reading, and who ferry the conversation. It’s a tacit trust between educator and child — the rewards are mutual. The lesson can proceed according to the teacher’s design, and the extroverts can succeed according to the traditional model.

But what about the introverts?

What about the “low verbals”?

What about the children who read the homework, who complete the worksheets, who memorize the vocabulary words, who post their projects, and who code their webpages — but who don’t speak up?

Most of a typical class is a chorus. Most of the kids who fill the seats and laugh at the jokes and fulfill their studies do not win awards. They do not give speeches at graduation. They do not take a bow with an audience on its feet.

Source: ASIDE 2015

The majority of learners will not play the leads. They will fill the background and be part of the cast. They will not see their names on the marquee, and they won’t even think to deserve it.

If school is a stage, then few actors will sing the solos or shine in soliloquies.

Most kids will be understudies — or “understudents.”

They will know their lines, they will be at every practice, they will work like heck — and yet they will receive little recognition. Because that’s how life is. And when they do step away from the ensemble and raise their hands to give a correct answer, it will be a surprise, an anomaly.

The greatest challenge, therefore, for classroom teachers is to identify the talent waiting in the wings. Who is lurking behind the scenes? Who is quieting her voice within the chorus? Who is restraining herself within the dance?

Somewhere, a student just needs a break, some encouragement, and a teacher who believes in him to break out and become a star.

Think about the Tom Bradys and the Kurt Warners who needed a first string player to falter just so they could have a chance.

Source: ASIDE 2015

Too many times the demands of high stakes testing and rigid teacher evaluations throw educators into survival mode, where they can barely keep their own heads above water, much less look out for a glimmer of light among their docile classrooms.

But that’s the job. That’s the key. Getting to know each child on a personal level is more important than drilling rote facts into their heads. All of us can think back to the mentor who believed in us, who pulled us out of our comfort zones.

As the new school year gets underway, one of our resolutions is to seek out the understudents. We also strive to recognize the kids with underparents. They don’t make a fuss, they don't complain, and too often, therefore, we attend to the squeaky wheels.

But the modest geniuses in our midst need us more than ever. If we don’t pluck them from obscurity, then they may end up seeing themselves as members of the throng — humble nodders in the choir, content not to speak up, not to dare, not to lead, and not to share all of the insights within their quick and boisterous minds.

Monday, August 10, 2015

It’s no surprise that the New York Taxi and Limousine Commission is lobbying for limits to Uber’s expansion. In fact, municipalities across the country are fretting over Uber’s intrusion.

Uber’s appeal — and its rapid, unmitigated ascent — is exactly like the edtech groundswell in contemporary learning.

Uber is a private car service currently taking the country by storm. It allows anyone with an app to instantly summon a professional ride. It takes away the guessing about street corners and hand-waving. It offers customized choices, such as a car seat or SUV. Uber provides real time, visual tracking of how far away the car is and how much the trip will cost.

Uber takes the frustrating tasks of flagging a phantom taxi or confronting a gruff phone operator and replaces them with immediate, digital satisfaction.

This is exactly what today’s students expect from their lessons and teachers.

For better or for worse, children enter our classes with a ready affinity toward online tools and an understandable assumption of digital learning. They are used to texting in realtime, chatting in realtime, Googling in realtime, and creating in realtime. When anachronistic teachers give them paper worksheets and bubble tests, it’s no wonder they roll their eyes and feel like they’re being intentionally stranded on the side of a high-tech boulevard, while the wired world seems to be passing them by.

Kids (and adults) live on their smartphones. They demand instantaneous answers via Siri or Wikipedia to any question that might pique their curiosity. In this way, they are uber-researchers. They seek information more actively and more frequently than any prior generation. The gift of the Internet offers them answers, but they still need to know their end destination. They still need to have a conclusion in mind, to drive their scholarship in the right direction.

Source: ASIDE 2015

The greatest gift from laptops, iPads, SMARTboards, and phones is efficiency. What used to take a middle schooler an entire Saturday now takes a split second. Kids can diagram the locks of the Erie Canal or study the bricks of the Giza pyramids in the same time it takes to tie one’s shoelaces. The “Internet of things” is a powerful encyclopedia. Any school district that blocks access to YouTube or Twitter, therefore, is closing the doors to Alexandria, erecting antiquated barriers in the face of authentic learning.

We expect our Uber driver to know our name, know our route, and know our credit card number. We expect service with a smile and quiet satisfaction in skipping the crowded van to the airport or the late-night carpool quest.

This is modern education — personalized, differentiated, and affordable.

This is technological learning — satisfying, searchable, and immediate.

As a point of reference, check out this current ad for Microsoft Windows 10:

Many educators still fight against this disruption, against these invading technological hordes. They demand professional development and budget studies to delay the inevitable. Many administrators side with city districts, viewing apps as interlopers seeking to upset the status quo.

Many still resist the arrival of a learning alternative, because it’s not “the way we’ve always done it.”

But the rabid popularity of Uber speaks to a communal need. The instinctive embrace of real-time learning by students means that if educators don’t change, kids will be chauffeured off into the sunset without them.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

The first official debate of the 2016 presidential primary season kicks off today. The Fox News Channel has invited 10 of the 17 declared Republicans candidates to a highly anticipated primetime wrangle (relegating the other seven prospects to a second-tier warm-up act). The 9:00 p.m. (EST) showcase is sure to draw an outsized number of eyeballs, due to the impressive roster of accomplished candidates and the say-anything bullhorn of a certain golden-haired tycoon.

As teachers, to introduce students to the primary process, we like to begin with each candidate's logo. These symbols are the forward-facing emblems that emblazon every t-shirt and bumper sticker and that encapsulate the character of the next leader of the free world.

Many media outlets have submitted their verdicts on various designs, but students (and everyday Americans) often have different reactions from professional graphic artists. For example, kids often accurately pick the winners based solely on the appeal of their candidate crests:

Fortunately, many presidential hopefuls did announce their campaigns before the end of the school year. With each new entrant, therefore, we first showed his or her official logo to the students, with no context or explanation, to gauge their reaction to the icon's visual appeal and brand message. The results were unexpected.

In order of Fox News ranking (based on a selective use of national polls), but not in order of winning insignia, here are the best and worst of tonight's field:

Real estate mogul Donald Trump's poster is certainly plain. In fact, there is little logo or design to speak of. Instead, his banner features clearly spaced, sans serif white lettering across a royal blue backdrop, with a thin border of lines and stars. Even without any graphic appeal, the placard is still ideal for Trump's mission. Arguably the best known candidate in the GOP, Trump and his moniker are already plastered across an array of airplanes, hotels, buses, and TV shows. To mess with a well-established brand would be foolish. Even the overly simplistic, exclamatory subtitle, "Make America Great Again!", is perfect Trumpian bombast and vaguery.

As the establishment favorite, former Florida Governor John Ellis "Jeb" Bush has charted a safe middle course toward the nomination. His unadorned, uninspiring logo is a testament to this risk-adverse strategy. The cherry red "Jeb!" does ring clearly across a range of posters and t-shirts. The use of only his first name also speaks to his national identity and his desire to separate himself from the potential negativity of his last name, just like Hillary, Newt, and others before him. The cartoonish, ridiculously emphatic exclamation point, however, detracts from any serious branding opportunity. With no genuine icon or subtitle, the only element that draws the viewer's attention is the election year, which might seem unnecessary, save for the fact that Bush is recycling the exact design from his prior gubernatorial runs.

Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is well known in the Midwest for his conservative stance against labor unions. He is just beginning, though, to introduce himself to a national audience. Walker often trumpets his everyman appeal, such as in shopping at Kohl's and not graduating from college. His campaign logo echoes this simplicity (even though his typeface is a dark Yale blue). The nicely registered kerning and leading give clarity to the banner (which is often paired with a "For America" subtitle). The attempt at symbolism, however, with the American flag "E" fails on multiple levels. The oversized blue corner and the randomly chosen three red bars warp the iconic Stars and Stripes to a distracting degree. Also, as the media immediately noticed, his device seems plagiarized directly from the trademark of America's Best Contacts & Eyeglasses.

Former Arkansas Governor Mick Huckabee's current logo is an improvement on his 2008 design. Huckabee's team obviously spent time crafting this upgraded image. The soft Tufts blue background allows his snow white last name to stand out above a red and white vector of lines that invoke Amtrak or the Bank of America. The viewer's eye, however, is drawn to the minor eruption of gold stars in the middle. This is an unnecessary distraction for such an insignificant embellishment. Also, the surtitle refers smartly to Huckabee's hometown of Hope, Arkansas, but it generates confusion about the precise meaning of the quasi-religious "higher ground" reference.

Retired neurosurgeon Ben Carson began his campaign with the logo above, but it's no wonder he's recently drifted toward a newer banner (which does have its own unique problems). The "Carson America" slogan is clumsy and perplexing in its smooshing together of two unrelated nouns. Unless his team was aiming for a Captain America reference, or trying to remind viewers about where they live, this jarring phrasing is off-putting in its agrammatical asynchrony. Additionally, the gold color has only successfully been employed by John McCain in 2008 with his military background. Finally, the action of the capital "A," with its miniature eagle head, its diagonal of tiny stars, and its curlycue of flag ribbons, offers too much business within too compact a space.

Texas Senator Ted Cruz opts for a muted tone in stenciling his name and year (and sometimes the prolix tagline, “Courageous Conservatives - Reigniting the Promise of America”). This unconventional yet dull choice of gray puts all of the lopsided emphasis on the red, white, and blue flame on the left. Cruz walks a road previously trod by Herman Cain, who similarly relied on an ill-chosen torch icon. Instead of invoking the light of liberty, fire imagery tends to kindle medieval or destructive, rather than uplifting, feelings.

Florida Senator Marco Rubio aims to create a contrast between his youthful, next-generational appeal and his more senior Republican (and possibly Democratic) opponents. To this end, Rubio's logo is superb. The casual, novel lowercase of his first and last name partners nicely with the contemporary ITC Avant Garde DemiBold typeface. The all-caps etching of his slogan, "A New American Century," is crisp in its reminder of his age (44) and outlook. The only misstep (albeit nice attempt) is the diminutive map of the United States perched daintily over the "i" in his last name. It seems like his team felt obliged to include some sort of Americana in the design. But the wee nature of this teeny nation comes across as reductive rather than celebratory.

Much like Bush, Kentucky Senator Rand Paul includes only on his first name in his mock up, presumably to distinguish himself from his father, Ron, who ran for president in 1988, 2008, and 2012. The problem is that the younger Paul does not enjoy the name recognition of Jeb or Hillary, so this graphic might as well be linked to the Rand Corporation. Also, the nearly-black, bold italics and the alarming red blaze on the top are more alarming than patriotic, more disconcerting than inspiring.

In his logo, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie mimics Huckabee's pairing of a bold last name with a thin electoral year. Without the other uniting elements, however, such as a background shade or a fluid shape, this rendition feels off-kilter. Christie's banner puts all of its emphasis on the stretched subtitle, "Telling It Like It Is." While this slogan effectively evokes Christie's predilection for direct talk (or rudeness), it also reinforces Christie's reputation for self-centeredness. A better design would have crafted a message about America or its people, along with an inventive icon to adorn buttons.

Ohio Governor John Kasich is one of the most recent entrants into the Republican race, so perhaps we can charitably excuse the rushed misfortune of his logo. The absence of any message or slogan or election year puts all of the attention on the rose red kite flying over his last name. Surely the redundant "K" (much like Clinton's "H") could have been incorporated creatively into the flow of his name, without the overlong wavy lines that imitate Zener cards. Instead, Kasich's initial comes across like Jon Huntsman's "H," a floating letter in search of meaning.

Stay tuned for a logo analysis of the other seven Republican campaigns, as well as the Democratic challengers not named Hillary.